Remembering Favourite Foods
last night we late cooked
an old time kiwi favourite
yes hot baked beans on
toast with a side of marmite
on toast to keep it company
sweet simple kiwi luxuary
can’t buy my favourite band
Watties Baked Beans legendary
settled for a can of Heinz yes
you guessed it baked beans
in hot tomato sauce with melted
cheese in hot baked beans mixed
I had Sanitarium kiwi Marmite
on toast another kiwi favourite
as my side dish winter dynamite
real kiwi boys palate to excite
it is simple home foods we miss
Sanitarium Weet-Bix favourite
New Zealand's No.1 breakfast
cereal loved by kiwi generations
milk over golden wheat biscuits
with a sprinkling of brown sugar
acquired taste Marmite spectacular
my beloved ETA salt and vinegar
potato chips can’t find here miss
Cadbury Crunchie Bar local star
milk chocolate over a honey comb
center a delicious treat by Cadbury
Brunswick Sardines in soybean
oil or spring water and Canadian
sockeye salmon other favourites
sacrifice living here I really miss
but for a real kiwi smile happy
Watties Baked Beans legendary
spaghetti or beloved baked beans
are my choice “it must be Watties”
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Related quotes
Young Years Of Kiwi Dragons
Weet-Bix and Marmite grows
into Kiwi friends Kiwi beers
great legendary Kiwi Years
“Our wings were flying in the sun....
Dreaming of a wind that would make us sail....
We had the moon and sun behind us....”
there were no horizons that could bind us
no stars galaxies big enough to swallow us
no supernovae in cosmos could out shine us
we burned super stars movers shaking our universe
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Craving A Taste Of Kiwi
last night I lonesome had
irresistible urge to eat kiwi
craving a taste of kai kiwi
the earth is giver of all life
from the soil comes food
native foods New Zealand
that same food is cooked
in oven beneath the earth
but expatriate here will find
no hangi traditional feast
nor any food of home forest
stream sea or gardens kiwi
years since eaten white bait
fresh silver jewels of Buller
River in my far home town
kumara tasty potato sweet
no traditional delicacies
grace my table no hangi
cooked meat vegetables
placed on bed hot stones
in bottom of dug hangi
hole no birds fish kiwi
wild herbs roots mixed
no food cloth covered
before mound of earth
traps heat around food
Maori tourism visitors
eat as guests hangi food
no taewa tutaekuri pass
lips deep purple potato
no rewena pararoa pass
lips potato Maori bread
my father puha gathered
a leafy vegetable green
to be found growing wild
after heavy Buller rains
kowhitiwhiti watercress
also smiling he harvested
greenlip mussels off rocks
at seashore neap low tides
greenlip mussels I ate
as kuku patties paua
from mother of pearl
shells in far away land
poem by Terence George Craddock
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The Special Bread For My Lover
Take wheat, barley, beans, lentils, millet ans spelt;
Mixed them in one bowl to make the special bread for my lover;
For the fuel of a cow's dung is not what she needs.
They will eat bread by weight and in anxiety,
And they will drink water by measure and in desolation;
But my lover will eat the special bread as baked from you!
For the prophets are like the jackals in the ruins and,
Their visions are false and their days are at hand.
Every vision to my sweet lover is fulfilled,
For she has now got the special bread as baked by you;
And you did as instructed by my formula.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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A Rose Between Thorns
some might see a rose between thorns
Tim and Dave age is but success downed time
I see three exceptionally gifted artists...
that give their own unique art with love to kiwi pride
through decades now with song you turned sung tide
sweet musical gift most precious it is there I do abide...
thou I alone journeyed far from memory homeward halls
kiwi artistry ever sings within my heart is ever at my side
Godspeed write names Tim Dave Bic on hallowed halls...
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Happy Feet.
When he was found, more dead than alive,
on the Shore of a Kiwi Beach,
the Emperor Penguin was brought to the zoo
and they called him 'Happy Feet'
He'd drifted, they say, for days and days-
over eighteen Hundred miles.
The poor little fellow nearly wasted away-
when they found him he was half starved.
Day by day, they nursed him back,
The folks at the Wellington zoo.
Now the time has come to return him home
Its the Kiwi thing to do.
So he'll take a sail with a freighter bound
for his cold Antartic home.
When he gets there, he'll pull up a chair
and take a vow never more to roam.
poem by John F. McCullagh
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Words Of Condolence
kiwi people nation
needs to grieve
sometimes it helps
words of condolence
are spoken by public
officials civic pulses
responsibilities
kiwi people nation
needs to grieve
sometimes it helps
it is what poets do
but poets have little
currency value in NZ
we are a sports nation
glued to news feed
images tell tragedy tales
tabloids state facts
ministers give eulogies
friends give support
charities volunteers aid
kiwi backbone
stands to in crisis
crisis skill hones
learning curves
community fellowship
rules God’s own
heart of gold
breed in old
fashioned values
Canterbury garden city
was not paradise born
it was compassion bred
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Heinz Baked Beans
One, two, three, four!
One, two, three, four!
Whats for tea, mum?
Whats for tea, mum?
Whats for tea, darling?
Whats for tea, darling?
Darling, I said whats for tea?
Darling, I said whats for tea?
Whats for tea, daughter?
Whats for tea, daughter?
Heinz baked beans
Heinz baked beans
song performed by by Who
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pancakes and With Baked Salmon
I do have this 'thing'
For my own homemade pancakes.
And with baked salmon!
What a treat to eat.
You are not going to get any that I make!
But here is the recipe.
You can do it just like me.
First beat an egg in a mixing bowl,
Add a tablespoon of baking powder.
A third teaspoon of salt
A full teaspoon of sugar.
And about a third cup of vegetable oil.
Beat that all together.
Now you want to add the flour.
About a cup...maybe more...
If you're serving more than two people.
I choose to use evaporated milk.
At least a cup.
Whip all this stuff up.
Heat that frying pan or griddle.
Medium to hot.
Add some olive oil if you got it.
Vegetable oil will do.
With a slice of butter added too!
OH! I almost forgot the salmon!
I use salmon steaks.
Preheat the oven 350 degrees.
After rinsing the salmon...
Rub with apple vinegar.
Salt and pepper if you please.
Lay on tin foil since this is what I use.
Add butter and a bit of oil!
Enclosed that salmon within the foil.
Baked twenty minutes.
That's all it takes!
ENJOY!
Use syrup on the pancakes.
Perhaps a little Vadalia Onion Dressing,
On the salmon.
And if you don't like this...
You definitely will love,
My brown sugar/mustard roasted chicken.
But I'm not sharing that right now!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Some-Fake-A Baked Cake
No I don't have...
What I do have.
And I do have...
That which I don't.
A peaceless sleep...
Like many who walk 'mean' streets.
No I wont have,
None of that!
Strung out on dope,
Because I can't cope.
No I don't have,
None of that to keep me off track.
Or,
Make an impact.
No I don't have...
What I do have.
And I do have...
That which I don't.
No I don't have...
What I do have.
And I do have...
That which I don't.
Psychotic I'm not...
Like the ones who worry a lot.
Or hooked on smoking pot.
No I don't have...
What I do have.
And I do have,
That which I don't!
No I don't have...
What I do have.
And I do have,
That which I don't!
Even though...
Some-fake-a baked cake.
Some-fake-a baked cake.
Some-fake-a baked cake.
And I wont have...
None of that.
Even though...
Some-fake-a baked cake.
Some-fake-a baked cake.
Some-fake-a baked cake.
And I wont have...
None of that.
No!
I wont have...
None of that.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Buttered Beans
If you don't want them,
Don't waste my buttered beans.
Roast peppers and the onions,
Makes them tasty.
Don't play with the food I prepare.
If you don't want to eat..
Get up from the table.
Don't stay there...
Staring into the plate like you don't care.
'The signs have been outrageously,
Flickering in neon.'
You could at least eat the salad.
Something to nourish you.
You are not going to save the world.
People will do,
What they do and choose.
'The signs have been outrageously,
Flickering in neon.
It's unbelievable they can not see,
What around them is going on! '
I have yet to see that movie 'Avatar'.
I've read the special effects are great.
That director, James Cameron...
Hits a homerun,
Everytime he's up to the plate.
To eat buttered beans,
With roasted peppers.
There is olives and corn in there too!
'I saw this homeless family,
Sitting on a bench right downtown.
You should have seen the looks,
Of the people who passed them.
Many disgusted.
Most with frowns.'
I baked the meatloaf with breadcrumbs.
And I added soysauce to the mix.
If I were you,
I'd remove those scenes right now.
Whatever you do,
People are not going to accept your point of view.
'What on Earth are you talking about? '
Buttered Beans!
I try to keep what's on my menu,
Simple!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Beans
Beans, beans, beans
Jessie had some beans
He was happy, happy, happy
And he ate some beans
Naked, naked, naked
Sitting cross-legged
Naked, naked, naked
And he was happy, happy, happy
And he ate some beans
Wine, wine, wine
Jessie had some wine
He was happy, happy, happy
And he ate some wine
Beans, beans, beans
Daddy ate some beans
And he drank some wine
And he was happy, happy, happy
As he drank some beans
song performed by by Nirvana
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Ballad Of Refreshment
The lady stood at the station bar,
(Three currants in a bun)
And oh she was proud, as ladies are.
(And the bun was baked a week ago.)
For a weekly wage she was standing there,
(Three currants in a bun)
With a prominent bust and light gold hair.
(And the bun was baked a week ago.)
The express came in at half-past two,
(Three currants in a bun)
And there lighted a man in the navy blue.
(And the bun was baked a week ago.)
A stout sea-captain he was, I ween.
(Three currants in a bun)
Much travel had made him very keen.
(And the bun was baked a week ago.)
A sober man and steady was he.
(Three currants in a bun)
He called not for brandy, but called for tea.
(And the bun was baked a week ago.)
'Now something to eat, for the train is late.'
(Three currants in a bun)
She brought him a bun on a greasy plate.
(And the bun was baked a week ago.)
He left the bun, and he left the tea,
(Three currants in a bun)
She charged him a shilling and let him be,
And the train went on at a quarter to three.
(And the bun is old and weary.)
poem by Robert Fuller Murray
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Jelly Beans
I love my jelly beans
I even love machines
That make my jelly beans
Red, pink, purple, and blue
I will all chew
If only you knew
I'd even eat them out of my shoe
One bean, two beans, three beans, a million
I'd even eat one hundred billion
I'd eat them non stop
I'd eat them right in the candy shop
I'd eat them until my tummy would pop
You can never have to many
I never heard of anyone that didn't have any
People always have plenty
Eat until I don't have anymore
Always wish I had some more...
...Back to my candy drawer
poem by Claude Davis III
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Showing Dolls
And Mrs Clark said
why doesn’t your son
come to tea
I’m sure Helen
would like that
she can show him
her collection of dolls
and your mother said
yes that would be nice
I’m sure he’d like that
and Helen peered at you
through her spectacles
her pupils like
two brown fish
in a glass bowl
and she smiled
one of those smiles
which frighten small boys
and Mrs Clark said
yes and you can come too
and your mother nodded
and off they went
into one of their
long conversations
and as they talked
Mrs Clark rocked the pram
with her youngest kid
wrapped up inside
and your mother stood
with you by her side
with the creeping dread
riding up in you
of tea looming
and Helen standing there
her plaits on either side
of her head
going back and forth
as she moved her head
and Mrs. Clark laughed
and the pram shook
and the kid cried
and she rocked the pram
backward and forward
and all you
could think about
was the dolls
and the baked beans
on toast
and Helen showing you
her dolls
as she had before
and taking
a secret kiss
behind a closed door.
poem by Terry Collett
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Silent Solitary Ominous Kiwi Flight
New Zealand remains
inherent a cannibal culture eats
irreverent literary genius
honoured are our sports
heroes believed All Blacks
legendary spirit decades
depicting nationalistic passions
viewed hallowed internationals
sanctified are epic test matches
against Springboks Wallabies
great epic rival Rugby Nations
holy grail reverent conversions
chasing elusive pig skin tries
team skills scrum honed religious
national international matches
makes kiwi blood boil victorious
game not country's hallowed pages
fail forgotten forlorn literary arts
regarded with great respect kiwi arts
reverence bestowed on foreign shores
Katherine Mansfield pen name cloaks
write prominent modernist short fictions
flavour focus vivacious charismatic lives
Virginia Woolf D.H. Lawrence befriends
restlessly seeking plumaged kiwi birds
go far flying flying foreign banner skies
chalice blood gathered wit weeping cries
Copyright © Terence George Craddock
Dedicated to Katherine Mansfield, with wreaths woven with a final stanza image, transcribed from her poem ‘Across The Red Sky'.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Team Spirit Conquers Roof Of The World
honoured are our sports heroes
especially our believed All Blacks
decades legendary team spirit
we view them in internationals
epic test matches against Springboks
Wallabies great Rugby nations
chasing elusive pig skin with skills
in national international matches
which makes kiwi blood boil pride
we watched an Auckland bee keeper
explorer mountaineer philanthropist
forge a route through the treacherous
Khumbu Icefall later breach 12 metre
virgin rock face the 'Hillary Step' in
Himalayas near apex Mount Everest
summit as Edmund Hillary wedged
his way up a crack in face between
rock wall the ice to climb on up past
till finally 'A few more whacks
of the ice axe in the firm snow,
and we stood on top.' Conquerors
Edmund Hillary, Tenzing Norgay
in 1953 had summited Everest
a team effort Tenzing a few years
later revealed Hillary had put his foot
on the summit first but in true blue pride
kiwi spirit shared fame on roof of world
sharing fame on roof of the world
is kiwi team spirit iconic expected
sharing fame true measure success
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Chocolate Factory
he said:
''My business statement is:
fair trade of beans....chocolate beans,
fair trade of kisses between lovers....not only in Valentine day...,
fair trade of chocolate beans like nipples....''
poem by Atef Ayadi
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Misspoke
'Sir...
We clearly have you on videotape
Saying you baked those cookies.
When in actuality,
You did not.
If you are expected to be selected,
As our choice to lead...
We need immediate clarification.'
I must apologize.
On several occasions,
I now admit to saying...
~I baked those cookies.~
You see...
It was many years ago,
When I begged from door to door...
For a taste of homemade chocolate chip cookies,
I was made to feel inadequate.
Until one day...
Out of the blue,
I decided I could and would bake my own cookies!
'But sir...
These are 'not' your cookies.
You might have tasted these cookies.
However...
Your baking them is a false statement.'
Baked, ate...
Tasted!
What difference does it make?
I misspoke.
Can we move on?
There are other more important allegations to lie about.
And besides...
It's just an election.
What's the big deal?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Before' The Beans
Take one turkey butt,
And put it in boiling water.
Make sure you had put in olive oil first.
With a little butter, oregano and basil leaves.
Then add two tablespoons of soy sauce.
A pinch or two of brown sugar, salt and red pepper.
20 minutes!
That's all you want to give it 'before' the beans!
Speckled Butter Beans.
With kidney and black eye peas.
Add them with sliced carrots and celery.
Turn down the heat,
To medium for approximately 45minutes.
And serve this with brown rice.
If you are into chicken...
Fried wings would be delicious.
For the better of the best tastes,
The 'smoked' turkey butt is great for that!
NOTE: 'Yes' this is my own original recipe.
Enjoy!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Kiwi Dave
For forty five years I've been working and I'm just an unfettered slave
And I have gray hairs to show for it I am quoting Kiwi Dave
Five years to go to retirement I was sixty last birthday
And ever since I've started working it's been uphill all the way.
My ex wife said that I was a drinker that I was too fond of the booze
That was her excuse for leaving she said I was born to lose
But I take it in moderation after work three or four beers
And I've been a slave for her and for my children for close to if not twenty years.
Fifteen years ago she left me and she went to live with younger bloke
She got more than half my assets for years to her haven't spoke
She turned my son and daughter against me and my six grandchildren I don't see
And I will spend my usual Christmas on my own watching T.V.
Kiwi Dave is a good person though just a little soured by life
And things for him would have been better had he had a faithful wife
'A woman she can make or break you' with that who could disagree
Dave could see the truth in those words for who would know better than he? .
For forty five years he's been working the hard worker Kiwi
Dave
And for his ex wife and his children for years he has been a slave
He looks older far than sixty the hard life has made him gray
Five more years left till retirement it's been uphill all the way.
poem by Francis Duggan
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